


My Freudian Slip

by Eavans



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe - School, Angst, Blood, Depression, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Prostitution, Self-Medication, i think thats it, school!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:20:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavans/pseuds/Eavans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>School!AU.</i> Dan Howell is a mess, but so is Phil Lester. And for some reason– that sort of brings them together. </p><p><i>or</i>, the one where Dan is a prostitute and Phil doesn't want to come out of the closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Freudian Slip

**Author's Note:**

> The relationship described in my story is not meant to be romanticized or replicated! This was just a story I’d wanted to tell for a long time now, and even though it took a good 3 months I’m very happy with it. I think it brings the emotion I’ve been trying to write for a while now, and I’m glad I was able to do that :’)
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: drug and alcohol abuse, sexual escapism, dubcon/rape, prostitution, depression, suicide, violence, emotional manipulation, harassment, internalised homophobia, homophobic slurs, swearing, _literally everything_
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlists](http://8tracks.com/eavans)
> 
>  
> 
> Dedicated to [@cxxrlee](http://tmblr.co/m24Ham1auvzFRbM-QePPtQA) , Jorgen and [](http://tmblr.co/mtZSQogkf0pPcEdaBWlWYXw)@besarcasm  
> 

Pop psychology dictates that the sum of our past is the key to our future.

Everything we do, from the naming of things we think we’ll need to the color of sweater we pick, who we call when we’re scared to what we drink when we’re stressed is all because of our history.

And for Dan, that makes a lot of sense.

So he looks ahead. In front of him is navy hair, the old Psychology class’s track lights washing his skin into a blue and the small freckles into a brown only he can see this close up. The room is the same, empty and cold, but the back row English Senior’s hands are softer than downtown and he likes it. Fingers trail to the small of his back and his uniform is coming undone again– a striped tie loses its noose and he wonders if the walls could talk if they would laugh at him like his mother watching her daytime talk shows.

He wouldn’t blame them.

“ _God- you’re so hot. You know that right?_

That makes him smile. He’s heard it a million times, but still he pulls the navy haired boy to his neck and stills it, feels the bruises start to bloom and the intake of breath soon after scratches his throat like nails on a chalkboard.

He can’t really wrap his mind around it, but he doesn’t focus on it either. The warmth of the boy’s hands are enough.

___

“You never texted me.”

Dan’s walking down the hall to English, gripping onto his messenger bag as he tries to get past the year 13. “Didn’t really expect an answer, honestly,” he replies coolly.

The boy stops in front of him. The rest of the students mull behind, walking past like they’re a car crash on a busy motorway. “Well, you thought wrong.” He lowers his voice, looking quickly behind. “I really like you.”

“You’re forward.”

He blushes. “Was the one to talk to you first, huh?”

“Couldn’t forget it.” Dan keeps his gaze ahead, remembering the way Phil had showed him to the empty classroom. His arms still hurt from the encounter.

“Well, can we maybe talk about this at lunch? After school?” The students shuffling by are starting to _really_ stare now, and Phil wants to shrink with every side eyed glance further into the wall. He pushes his shoulder into the thing to try and hide his face.

It doesn’t work. **  
**

Dan takes his chin, bringing it around to stare at him, fingers cold as metal on Phil’s skin. He desperately wants to look away, but Dan's grip is too strong. _There are too many people here god this is so awkward–_

It’s barely above a whisper. His eyes are stone.

“I only had your dick in my mouth. Don’t think you’re anything special.”

Phil tries to shove him off. “Get your hands off me.”

Fingers acquiesce like an eraser on matte paper. Phil can’t do much but feel the marks left on his cheek, struggling for something to stop moving in his vision. Dan shrugs past him, snapping his messanger bag and flying a hand across his slicked hair as he turns the corner. The passerbyes slow even more until a boy stops, and a backup of eyes flicker up to Phil.

“Excuse me, thank you.” He digs his hands in his pockets as he tries to escape the stream of bodies, all of them too eager to get out of the way. _I need to get to class I need to get out of here-_

“What was Lester _doing_ talking to Howell?” It’s whispered behind him, disembodied and short. He stops and turns.

“Who said that?”

A group of underclassmen shift uneasily. Caught.

“Which one of you?” Phil doesn’t want to seem angry but it’s hard, balling his fists in his pockets to pull the rage somewhere out from his face.

The kids stay quiet, tittering and trying to lose eye contact. It fails. One by one the eyes drift to a bespeckled boy, shorter than him by a foot and a shift of hair so blonde it looks white. He laughs nervously.

“Um I- I did.”

The kid isn’t intimidating. He’s doing everything in his power to appear relaxed, Phil can see it.

So he doesn’t know why does it. Why his fist makes contact with a bony face, why the boy’s snow hair is now freckled in his own blood and why he’s so tall compared to the crumpled mess on the floor- but it happens.

His fist is shaking. It’s so red he can’t tell if it’s blood or the contact, and he wants to cry. He want’s to cry so bad.

“ _What the fuck was that for?_ ” The boy is touching his lip, watching the red syrup its way down to the tile.

Phil can’t speak. It’s as if all the air has been taken from the room, given to the crowd around them to fuel the whispers and callings. He hadn’t noticed the people circle around them.

“I said what was that for, _you fucking queer_?”

Phil doesn’t know what else to do.

So he runs.

___

After school, Dan goes downtown. It’s what he does, everyday, slinking his way down alleys and the homeless– and he just wants a drink. He wants to forget.

Most of his reputation hangs on these after school escapades, like a vagrant in the dust bowl walking into a distance of neon lights until he fades into the scenery, Dan goes downtown in search of _something other._

But that’s really just what people whispered.

_“I saw him running around with some gang, not even joking.”_

_“He’s fucked plenty– boy gets more game than any of us– but he ain’t picky– goes for the blokes too.”_

_“You can’t deny he’s seen more than any of us’ll… Don’t envy ‘em either.”_

Dan doesn’t like to think about what others say. They don’t understand. They don’t get why he does it. What they whisper about isn’t him, it’s blown so out of proportion he can only get a good laugh when he hears it. He finds the irony biting that the kids he’s gotten off are the ones who speak the harshest, to be honest.

But what they do get right is that he’s probably sad.

_“It’s for attention.”_

_“He’s looking for acceptance… It’s obvious he doesn’t get it at home.”_

_“He don’t have nothing to live for in **my** opinion.”_

That’s what hurts.

What scares Dan the most about suicide is the idea of- well- being dead. He’ll open his laptop– _a gift from downtown_ – sometimes, blink at the camera a few times, focus on the slight lag of the screen as he can _actually_ view his movements for at least a fraction of a second. He’ll be a photo soon enough, something printed around school and passed at memorial services – not the living, breathing, moving thing he can see right here and now. It’s in that split second that he can finally see himself as other do, and he thinks it makes him special, someone who can view the dead _before_ they’re even dead.

So it’s the same as he looks over in the hardware store glass.

He blinks.

But it doesn't wait for him. He can’t see his eyelids move this time, the blinks non existent to darkness. He tries to not be let down, and so it's a blessing that he’s so distracted by how bad he looks. There’s a reconsideration about going downtown at all. His little bar on 4th is only the haven it’s become because of his bloody “angel face”; he can get in any time of the day– but he ends up ignoring the windows plea.

Except Dan can’t. He can’t help but fixate on himself, his blue coat fraying on the hood and his under eyes resembling bruises. He looks awful. He feels awful.

He needs a drink.

And he won’t admit it, but he probably needs a line too.

___

Phil has never been a _bad_ kid. He’s never been expelled, never gotten in much trouble, but even he _knows_ he’s fucked up.

He’s ran until he’s out of breath, each city street passed inspiration to go to the next- and the next– _and one more–_

 _Why_ , is what most of his brain preoccupied with at the moment, while the other figures out that going home now would be a death sentence. The school’s most likely already called his mum and there's no use going yet. _I’m so dead_ , he thinks.

There’s a city bench next to a hardware store, and even though school has already gotten out, he doesn’t want to look suspicious. His uniform is a mess and the last thing he needs is nosy pedestrians seeing blood on some his hands and start to ask questions. Finally allowing himself to take off his sweater, he notices the sweat practically dripping off the corded navy.

Before he can relax though, a voice startles him into looking up.

“You’re kidding me.”

Dan is staring down at him, a hand still and a look so similar. His uniform is gone, and in it’s place is a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of frayed jeans. The usually polished look of his hair is also in pieces now, the remnants of the pomade sticking it together like cheap tape.

“What happened to you?”

He gestures to Phil’s bloodied hand. “I could ask the same about you, to be fucking honest here mate.”

Phil almost forgot. “Oh-” He attempts to hide them under his sweater, but Dan is already starting to laugh.

“Finger someone a little too young?” He’s laughing now.

“Wh-”

“Oh you little fucker-,” he’s struggling for breath, “Why would you do something so stupid?”

Phil digs his hands deeper into the sweater. “I didn’t finger anyone!”

The laughter continues to bounce off the concrete buildings. “Oh-Oh man–You beat some kid up, didn’t you?”

Phil feels his face go lax. “How’d you know that?”

“Your hand is bloody and you don’t have a bruise anywhere. Also you’re out at 8 o’clock and on a Tuesday night and I don't think you've ever ‘proper fucked a girl.”

There’s a silence as Phil continues to look down. “I hate you.”

“Only the truth.”

“Why are _you_ out here anyways?” Phil asks, annoyed.

Dan rolls his eyes. “None of your business, frankly.” He turns to leave with a curt spin. “Bye then.”

“Where are you going?”

He doesn’t stop. “Home,” he yells over his shoulder.

“Hey- wait up!”

___

“Punching kids doesn’t get you very far in this world, Lester.”

The streetlights are starting to come on as they walk up one of the many hills in their town. Gold starts to shake on the purple concrete until it grows into a fully fledged illuminant, making the shadows a murky brown. Leaves blow a little way in front of them and collide with passing cars, and Dan can’t help but see it as some kind of sick metaphor, but he pushes it away, instead stopping right before they get to the bridge that signals the end of downtown and the beginning of suburbia.

“Are you really going home?” Phil finally catches up to him.

“Yes, if that’s alright.”

“Um.” Even through the dusk colors, his blush shines through. “Won’t your mum call mine or something if I follow?”

“You’re coming now, huh?” Dan starts to walk, laughing over his shoulder. “Usually people wait to be invited.”

Phil just stands, dumbfounded.

“She’s at work until 3. You can spend the night.”

“Oh.”

___

The town of Dennison is slightly smaller than others. It’s big enough that you’ll never know everyone in it, but somehow still small enough that by connection you’re never really far off from the grips of perceptions. So fastidious is its creation every generation only brings a stronger mould of what’s _right_. Stronger kids than he fall behind, and the ones downtown– _perhaps_ weaker, are _certainly_ mislead.

They walk further down into the abyss of post WWII brownstones, making their way to a dimly lit street. “You scared?” Dan asks, still leading.

Phil tries to lie. “No.”

Somehow, Dan sees right through it. “This place is shit, of course you’re scared.”

“That’s not true-”

“Then walk in front of me then. Go down that alley.”

Phil hangs behind for a second. “No- Alright fine. I’m scared.”

Dan takes his hand. “Thought so. Come on.”

___

The yellow of the windows seems to put a filmy layer on everything inside, Phil thinks. They’ve made their way down the street to a normal one story, and it’s not messy, but it’s cluttered, and he finds it hard to move much, trusting in Dan to lead the way in.

Dan goes to put a light on when they’re in his room, and this time it’s a fluorescent blue– hygienic. The light is slow to turn on, shining on each surface in slow bursts. Phil looks around when it finishes.

What he sees is that Dan’s room is peculiarly clean compared to the rest of his house. His nightstand has only a solitary clock on it, the rest of the surface polished to a shine. On his wall are posters for some punk bands Phil’s never heard of, there’s clippings about some local artists and a lot of scrawling words sharpied sporadically on the sky blue paint like a preschool art project. The contrast made him laugh.

“Your mom lets you do this?”

“She can’t be arsed.”

“It’s interesting.” Phil tries to keep the conversation going. “I don’t know the bands. Any good?”

“They’re alright, yeah. Want to listen?”

_#1: get them interested._

He takes off his jacket and grabs a black and white record from a plastic filing bin, placing the vinyl on the record player. As it starts playing, Dan continues to stare at the baby blue spinner, looking down at it with a quiet reverence. _“Oh love, oh love, Jumping jolly until the end, I wanna be your friend.”_

“Too _hard core_ for you?” He laughs.

“No. It’s nice. Who is it?”

Dan finally turns, taking a step closer to Phil. “Palma Violets.” He takes the bloodied sweater from Phil’s hands and throws it next to the door, and pulls tightly at Phil’s striped school tie. “But don’t play games. I think we both know why you followed me here.” Dan’s eyes rake over him, and his head bobs with the garaged vocals. “And talking punk bands wasn’t it.”

Phil feels his chest get lighter. “Um you know it’s funny-”

“Nothing funny about this.” He continues to pull at Phil’s tie, moving him closer and closer until he’s perched on his bed. The eyelashes on Phil’s face are coming into focus and they’re wet from the cold outside, his nose is raw and his cheeks echo the sentiment, a youthful glow of peach fuzz covering them.

_#2: make them feel in control._

“I want you to fuck me.” Dan lets his teeth bite at the command. “ _Fuck me_ ,” he repeats, this time whispered. He can see it in Phil’s eyes, he’s hesitant. But he’s not an idiot, Phil want’s it as much as he does.

“You’ll talk to me tomorrow?” It’s childish. Phil doesn’t know it though. “Yeah?”

“Anything you say, hon.” It’s a lie. Phil’s supposed to understand this.

So he brings Phil down to his eye level with one last tug on the school tie. Both of their lips are a little frigid, and the house isn’t much warmer than outside. Instinctively Phil pulls Dan into his arms to try to warm himself, abruptly cutting off the frenzied kisses. Phil steadies himself on Dan’s nose.

“I’m sorry- it’s so cold.”

“Damned heater broke about two years ago. It’s all right, here-” Dan stills. Phil’s closed eyes are directly in his viewpoint, and he can see the little lashes of his lids quiver with cold. He _shouldn’t_ be as attracted to him as he is right now. Phil’s older than him and bigger than him– and yet here in his arms, Dan can only see a child. He wonders if it isn’t just the cold that’s making them shiver.

But Dan’s supposed to continue, _that’s the unspoken rule to #2_ , but he can’t–

Instead Dan just lays on his chest, letting Phil’s arms wrap around him. He closes his eyes. It’s comforting. Phil’s heartbeat keeps his head company. On and on it grows, until Dan starts to feel himself slip–

They stay there for a few minutes, and he’s complete bliss. Breathing in, and breathing out- something soft beneath him...

“I think I’m alright now.” With a sudden jolt at Phil’s voice, Dan wakes. “Maybe once we get under blankets or something.”

“Anything you say-” the word _hon_ sticks in his throat this time, slightly groggier.

Phil tries to lose some of his blush, and in his embarrassment pulls Dan back to his lips with a stinging urgency.

_#3: forget_

Dan focuses on the lips connecting with his, breathing in the musk of cheap aftershave and fighting the buttoned collar on Phil’s neck so as to ignore the steady pool forming in his stomach.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Phil breathes out.

“Y-You can’t resist me.” He doesn’t want to forget the last few minutes but he finds that he can’t focus on anything _but_ that. _I need to forget god this is pointless he doesn't care about you- **idiot**._ Dan takes hold of the collar again, finding it hard to unbutton.

Helping with shaking hands, Phil slips his fingers in between Dan’s to reveal a snow pale throat.

“You’re all I’ve thought about all day.”

Dan settles into his arms, wrapping his legs around him. He runs his hands along Phil’s neck, finally fitting his mouth to the crook of it and kissing, finding the blood rushing underneath his lips a pleasant feeling. He moans in a little, trying to ease the tiny shivers of the boy’s neck.

“Why are you shaking?”

“I-I guess I’m just cold.”

So Dan goes back to his neck, marveling at the marble of the boning and the inlets of the collar, tracking his fingertips up his back on the way...

But it’s the scrape against his chest that gets him, the warmth and the wet- he gets back. This isn’t what supposed to happen. Phil is his friend, _he likes him and wants to give him everything_ , but he _can’t_ give him this. This is to forget, to float, to be gone. This is _not_ for Phil.

This is wrong.

“Stop-” He turns his head away from Phil’s mouth. “I-I can’t-”

The kisses stop immediately. He expects to have to bring his hands up to try to protect his neck, like usual, but it stops.

It stops.

Dan‘s eyes are cornered into the dresser, and only breath is in the blue room, billowing into the other, the only moving thing in the air. _Everything is more than warm and Phil’s hair is a real true black and it just so-_

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a blink, and an icy tear leaves his eye and slides to the lily sheet. He wishes he could answer. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his voice so fragile. “Y-You have to go home.”

Neither of them can see the other, it’s too dark and they’re only shadows to the walls. But it’s funny hearing life in people, passion and disgust, disappointment and fire come out from the lips of pitch. He’s not use to it.

“My mum’ll kill me-”

Dan’s quiet.  “Go home to your parents.”

“I don’t want to.”

Phil could rape him. He could pin Dan down, force him to take it. He’s smaller than Phil, and pretty fucking weak from eating takeaway almost every night. Dan wouldn’t even be surprised at this point, just mildly disappointed.

But he must have said “go” with conviction because Phil does. His throat is caught as the sheets graze together as he gets up and takes his clothes, a little slap of metal says a belt buckle is off the floor, and a creak tells Dan that he’s gone.  

He’s not even able to finish his sentence.

_“But I want to you so bad.”_

___

The day after, Phil’s surprised Dan’s even at school. He isn’t at his usual place in the morning by the library stairs, and when Phil walks into the only class they share, Dan’s already sitting down, going over old notes.

Phil had gotten home to school authorities and to livid parents. Whilst being grounded was shit, he has to admit it’s better than being expelled. The school psychologist and counselors all want to meet him weekly now, and the whole process reeks of good intentions. It puts a sour taste in Phil’s mouth.

Dan’s two rows ahead of him, and Mrs. Ivy’s lesson on English modernism is completely lost to him. His brown hair is free of the palmade and Phil thinks it’s mysteriously shaggy without it. Hanging limp around his ears, it barely touches the lobe, and it’s lighter– a soft chocolate. Phil wonders if it’s even brushed.

He comes back to reality at the drop of Dan’s pencil. He stays still for a second, as if to try to work out if that _is_ what actually happened. As he bends over to get it, Dan chances a glance behind him; his eyes are cold.

Phil tries to smile, but only met with a grimace. _What the hell?_

Salem leans over next to him. “What the fuck is that about?”

Phil’s stomach drops. He expected it.

“I-I don't know.”

Dan’s back is rigid, intent on the screen in front.

“Ay, you can take him. Can't you-?” Simon raises his voice. “Oi, little daisy-”

“Don’t-” Phil tries to push Salem away. “Stop, it’s not worth it.”

“He can’t just treat you like shit.” He ignores Phil’s grip, writing on scraps of paper. “ _Oh Danny boy_ -” Salem throws a slip at Dan’s ear.

“I _told_ you to stop.”

He throws another one.

“ _Salem_ ,” Phil hisses.

And another one.

Without looking back, Dan moves to pick one up off his desk.

“ _Dan_ \- don’t.”

He ignores him, slowly unfolding the lined paper.

“ _What did you write?_ ” Phil wants to yell.

“Oh nothing…”

He can only grip onto his pencil, furious.

His classmates are starting to turn around and stare, the girl next to Dan glaring at the two before focusing back up at the front.

“What did you write?”

“ _Lester_.” The teacher raises her eyebrows. “Quiet.”

“What did you write?!” Phil wants to throttle him.

“Ay, calm down. Only told ‘em how much of a little faggot he was.”

Phil’s stomach drops. “Why would you?”

Salem looks incredulous. “Um, why wouldn’t I? Shagged my girlfriend. Little fairy needs to remember where he is.”

So Salem hasn’t heard the rumors yet. Phil’s glad he’s as thick as he is.

“Right.” He draws it out. “Because shagging a girl makes him gay.” _How far will I take it?_ Phil thinks.

“It’s not only that, I hear what they say... You sticking up for him?”

“No, I’m just questioning your ideas, that’s all.”

“You a fag, Lester?”

It sits in his throat like lead. “No.”

“You better not be.”

“I’m not even that close to you, I don’t understand your obsession with my sexuality honestly. But Dan-”

“Dan?”

“iel-” he accentuates it, “Hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Chelsea was going to leave you anyways, she told me.”

There’s a shocked silence as Salem stares like a limp seal.

“And if you don’t apologize, those nudes you sent her might be shown to the wrong person,” Phil whispers back harshly.

“You’re fucking him, ain’t you?”

Phil can feel every muscle in his face twitch. “No.”

“I can’t believe you,” Salem leans back and laughs. “I thought you were actually normal.”

It stings. “You have no proof.” Phil looks ahead and tries to focus on copying the notes. It’s pointless.

“Not yet.”

Phil lets go of his pencil. Salem doesn’t mess around. He tries to seem calm. “We’ll see.”

___

As class ends, Dan fiddles with his bag buckle so as to not have to turn around. Phil idles behind, ignoring Salem’s eye and pretending to be looking for a paper. Dan finally turns around when they’re the only two left in the class. He almost makes it out until Phil slips in between the door and himself, grabbing onto Dan’s sweater in the process.

“ _Get off me._ ” Dan won’t look at him.

“No- We need to talk-”

“I don’t need a hero, _Lester_.”

Dan shoves him into the doorframe, losing his grip and starting down the hall. Phil can only look on, stunned.

But Dan turns to the corner, rounds, and Phil can see tears on his face as he paces back to the door, his steps ringing on the linoleum.

“I can’t believe I ever thought I had a chance with you.” Dan’s face is inches away from his and it’s taking everything out of him from running. Most of the hall is empty except for some students still mingling and Dan shakes his head in disbelief. There’s a sick laugh in his throat, along with what Phil thinks is a tear on his cheek.

“ _You fucking closet case_.”

Phil can feel his stomach drop. He can only watch Dan disappear again, and its whisper does more damage than a scream.

___

Hours turn into Days, and before either of them realize, it’s been weeks since the classroom incident.

Dan doesn’t know what to think. He also doesn’t want to admit how much he has thought about Phil.

But he doesn’t know why. All he can think about is being next to him, brushing the hair from his face and just leaning into his chest again...

And it hurts. At school he’ll see him, blue eyes and all, and won’t be able to do more than stare. Stare at him, through him, with him, Dan stares whenever he can. He spends nights mulling over the ways they could be together, when he’s being fucked too, and all of them seem less and less desirable every time he counts them.

The whole situation of the classroom fight keeps replaying in his head. _We could never be out together at school he’s the smart one here, Dan_. But he can’t help but indulge in the idea- walking to class hand in hand, helping each other with work– _god even being able to be seen together_. Nothing starts rumors like being seen with _Dan Howell_. It’s selfish wanting Phil. He shutters, wincing at the idiocy of his dreams.

Dan hasn’t stopped going downtown either, hasn’t stopped the acts for drinks, and he could stop– it isn’t _that_ hard to get illegal liquor.

But the drugs are harder, harder to get and harder on his mind, so he keeps at it. He doesn’t want to think about _addiction_ , that’s something else _entirely_ , but he’s still scared of it. He thinks dying from an overdose is preferred to withdrawal, he’s seen the movies. At least from an OD it’d be over fairly fast.

So when Dan gets home, he takes a shower like usual, grinds the soap into his skin, rubbing it in until he sees red. He wants to scratch himself away– the blood of purgation.

His mother doesn’t come home until 3 most nights, and he usually misses her on her way out when he comes back from school too.

“I love you, take care.” It’s a fumbling hug and a quick kiss, barred by work bags and his own inner disposition.

“Yeah, take care.” He can’t find himself using the word “ _mum_ ”.

There’s a wave to her when her backs to him, and he locks the door the moment she’s out of sight.

This is when he goes out.

___

Getting ready is ritualised. The cake of pomade, the ribbon of his belt, the creviced opening of his torn jeans so just a bit of pale skin shows through...

There’s a little makeup in it too, his eyes have been weighed down by even darker circles lately, and he knows they don’t like that. He has to be pretty.

What they do with him is their business, he tries to enjoy it but mostly he sees it as a hassle. There was a girl once, not much older than he. She’d had given him his first taste of it, and he supposes he must have loved her. But she left.

And the men that replaced her were nothing like the softness she’d wore. He’s soft too, but now it only marks him into their _bitch_ , something to break and something come in, and he supposes it’s wrong, but even if he wanted to leave, he’d have to tell his mum, and he can’t do that. Everyone downtown knows where he lives, his school, everything– it’s a trap.

So Dan finishes putting on his mother’s concealer and powder, fakes a little rogue to color what’s gone and takes off the makeup that had covered the deep hickey on his shoulder. They like their marks. He isn't here to argue.

He takes a small bag, unlocks the door, relocks the door, and goes out for the night.

___

Phil doesn’t want to go home yet. He _should_ be home right after school, with being grounded and all, but he doesn’t feel much about the consequences.

The rest of the school day had dragged on dangerously, and Phil had contemplated running out the broken fence to something other than the emotional labyrinth school had made itself into a few times in calculus. He walks down the Main Street of his town now, trying to shake the feelings from earlier.

It fails to leave him as he passes the bar he hears Dan frequents. Phil doesn’t really listen to the rumours, so he can’t be sure it’s even the one he’s looking up at. It’s dingy, a red pleather looking canopy spanning to the sidewalk. He can’t find any windows either.

But the curiosity takes over.

___

When Phil gets home, his mother is already making dinner.

“You’ve been out.”

“Um, yeah.” He says awkwardly. “I-”

“That’s not how being grounded works, _Phil_. We have to punish you somehow.”

The glint from her knife shines uncomfortably into his eye. _Cut, cut, slide_.

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

She turns from the counter, her face softer than he expected. “If this is about what that boy said to make you so mad-” She stops. “Oh I know we didn’t get to talk about it- but even if you _were queer_ -”

“Yeah?” He gets a glass of water to ignore her look.

“You should have told someone about the bullying.”

There’s a silence except for the hiss of the refrigerator. Phil keeps his back turned to her.

“I’ll make sure to.”

“I care about you Phil, You have every right to be angry.”

“I have homework,” he says awkwardly.

“Of course.” She smiles. “Dinner’s in an hour.”

Phil turns to leave when his mum calls back. “Please don’t go out like that again. You can have the weekend but you need to be home after school.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Alright.” She goes back to the potatoes. “Go do your homework.”

___

Phil looks at his phone. 10:53. _Better now than ever_.

Phil gets out of his bed quietly and gets dressed, using the his phone torch to light his way. Taking his wallet and tieing his shoes, he ignores the anxiety that he is actually sneaking out. _Why am I doing all the wrong things while grounded for the first time?_ , he thinks amused.

Putting one foot out the already unlatched window (smart one he had done a few hours earlier), Phil finds his footing on the tips of his toes in the hydrangeas. _Mum won’t be happy._

He throws over his hood and walks to the street, making his way to this bar he’d heard so much about.

___

Phil can’t really understand how Dan can get into them. Phil’s old enough, got the license two months ago _legally_ – and as far as he’s heard about Dan– still has 2 years.

And he’s also heard this has been going on long before that.

“ID?”

Phil shows the doorman his card and walks in, sits down at the bar and looks around. It’s dark, the walls ringed in stripes and the candy colored lights shining like a wrapper crinkling to the crowd.

“How are you doing tonight, sir?”

Phil looks around. In front of him is a woman. “Um, good, thank you.”

“Ya looking for anything tonight?”

“Oh-um” He thinks of Dan. He should wait for him. “You look lovely... but um, no- girls, yeah. Sorry.” Phil doesn’t know how to verbalise it.

She smiles knowingly. “Oh don’t worry, I ‘ave something for ya. Come’n look?” Phil’s heart pounds. Dan couldn’t be…

“Meet Jamesy? He’ll do anything, promise. Even me you cheeky fucker, I saw you staring!” The woman’s purple lipstick shines from the black lights, tinting it an uncomfortable yellow. She takes his arm and whisks him into the crowd, a couple people wolf whistling in the process. He’s glad it’s only been one beer, or he’d probably be sick from the chaos.

“Oi, Jamesy!” The woman brings him into a back room with a group of others, the lighting slightly brighter.

A boy stands up and turns around from a table strewn with mirrors with powder. It takes a second for him to register the face. There he is.

Dan Howell’s eyes widen like an electric shock has run through him. Phil can see him wearing torn black jeans, a loose fitting crop top, and a silver necklace. His hair is free of the palmade but sticks to his forehead in thick loose curls, and he fancies (maybe it’s the lighting) he’s a tad bit tanner too. He can see dark lashes from across the room and wonders if it’s mascara doing it. Phil doesn’t recognize him.

Dan wipes at his nose. “Lovely one you are.”

“Ya know him? Only got’em because things are so slow and knew he warn’t a plod from his nerves.” The woman raises her voice. “Maybe you can do something for him?”

“I don’t know him,” Dan chokes, trying to smile. “But he’s something. I’ve got it from here, Crystal.”

The rest of the party in the room eyes the two of them, and an older man tries to signal Phil to sit down. He just shakes his head, scared. “You just want the boy, huh?”

Phil looks over to Dan, who’s seems to have the look of death on him.

“This boy will change your life,” he smirks, “trust me.” He takes a shot glass from the mirror. “You’re new to this by the looks of it.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll cut to the chase kid. 50 quid for the night. Condom or nothing, you got me?”

Phil’s stomach sinks. He had expected it. It’s taking everything out of him to not look at Dan.

“Here.” The money feels heavy as he hands it over. Several girls on the couches look up at him sadly, clinging to the men like leeches.

“Take him J, we’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t ruff him up,” he gestures to Phil, “that’s our job– if you know what I mean.” The man smiles slickly, turning Phil’s stomach over again.

_He didn’t know._

Dan smiles for the first time and takes Phil by the hand. “Come on lovely,” he whispers to him, “Let’s get out of here.” He flashes a winning smile back to the men behind him and leading a stumbling Phil out.

___

_Oh God._

_“What the fuck were you doing?”_

Phil’s at a loss for words. They’re standing in the middle of the street a block down, on the cusp of the bridge at the edge of the city. “I-I didn’t know.”

“You wanted me that bad? Huh?”

“No- I just-” **  
**

“Well you paid!” Dan’s shaking his head, near a laugh at the sheer unbelievability of the situation they were in. “Should I suck you off now? Want to finally fuck me? Is that was this was all about? Not _satisfy_ you enough?” Dan walks to the bridge and starts up it, pulling at his hair and letting out a scream.

“Dan-”

He turns around, red roaming his face. “No! You don’t get to say _any_ -”

“Dan stop this- You’re scaring me.” Phil can feel the tears starting to drip down, burning in the winter cold. “I just wanted to see you. I-I missed you.”

The boy stays there on the beginning of the bridge, looking down at Phil, sneering. “I don’t believe you.”

It should be hurt, but Phil ignores it. “Come home with me.” When Dan doesn’t move he continues. “I won’t touch you.”

Still, Dan stands motionless. The wind blows dangerously at the pair, hissing through the decorative border of the concrete and lifting their hair in fleurs.

At last Dan asks. “Why?”

Phil knows what he’s getting at. “Because I know you don’t want me to touch right now and I respect you more than you can imagine- but I know you still want me around– and you’re confused and I’m confused a-and I think that means something.”

The cold air burns Dan’s nose as he breathes in, trying to suck the oxygen in enough to calm his breathing.

“If you want, come home with me. Rest. Take a break for the night.”

Dan can feel himself start to lose his edge. He’s too tired to be embarrassed. He can see the genuineness behind Phil’s eyes.

He doesn’t think about it though.

“All right.”

___

They sneak back into Phil’s room through the hydrangea bushes, leaving the window open for fear of the noise closing it, and push against each other extra tight for warmth. Dan lays with his head pressed against Phil’s chest again and this time he can settle down, know it’s for the night, wrap his fingers around his shirt content with the fact that this is what he wants. There’s nothing expected of him. He can breathe him in all he wants and crinkle their toes together, and he almost doesn’t want to sleep in case he doesn’t remember every waking moment caught up in this dream.

Phil had talked him down from the bridge and they had walked back together, Phil giving him his coat to hide his exposed shoulders from the cold. They had left a note as Dan’s place, and used the last of the money for a taxi over to park adjacent to Phil’s, walking together to the side and helping each other in after.

Dan had shed the coat and attempted to close the window, but Phil had explained the noise situation and instead brought blankets from the cupboard to compensate.

And Dan had blushed at the topic of his clothes, embarrassed at the shirt so thin he could see himself through it.

“C-Can I help you take it off?” It was daring move of Phil after the bridge scene, but Dan only got warmer and nodded, appreciating the touch, never admitting it. Phil didn’t mind. _We all have demons_ , he thought. He replaced it with an undershirt, a t-shirt, and then an oversized sweater, helping him it on each time. Dan liked the attention, he felt like a doll.

In the bathroom adjacent, Phil washed off his makeup with a washcloth, dripping the water ever so lightly to keep the house quiet. He went one by one on his cheeks, pressing it softly to his forehead and then swiping at the mascara.

“Does it hurt? I’ve never taken this stuff off before,” Phil whispered through the moonlight.

It did. So Phil took some toilet paper instead and padded it away, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

But Dan had taken Phil’s hand and brought it to his stomach, pleasuring in the touch and lifting up the layers to point at various places of interest. Phil hadn’t understood. Dan took the washcloth and started himself, showing how the concealer wore off to reveal purple.

Phil had looked on sad, taking the cloth from Dan and continuing, finishing when Dan had brought it up to his neck for its finale.  

He shivered at the pressure to his neck, biting his lip as Phil took the warm washcloth up and down, the temperatures so polar he could only curl his toes to stop from moving so much along the bathtub.

“Does this bother you?” Phil had whispered.

Dan shook his head. He brought his hand up to meet Phil’s, dragging it up to tilt his own neck toward him.

Phil stiffened. “I’ll only ever do what you want me to,” he reminded Dan.

“Heal me,” he said brokenly.

All Phil could do was touch his wounds, brush them with his lips, try in vain to kiss the scars away– but the bruises ran deeper than he could even begin to fathom.

But he fancied he could taste tears. No wonder Dan couldn’t touch him.

___

Phil wakes the next day to an absent bed. He tries to not be so let down, but he should have expected it. _Like hell Dan was going to see you sober after that_.

When he arrives at school he doesn’t see him in his usual spot under the tree, and by the time he’s in English he realises Dan is absent from school. His spot in class is empty, and he finds it ironic that he can see the board easier and yet be in so much turmoil despite.

“Now class,” their teacher starts up, “I have some good news– and some bad news.”

The class stopped talking. “Which do you want first?”

“Bad.” a few kids shout out.

“You have an essay project due in a month.”

The class groans in unison.

“The good news is– it’s with a partner.” The class yes’s. “And you can pick them.” Everyone’s wide eyed and smiling. “Take is as a gift for your hard work on the last test.”

Phil tries to not look so desperate for a partner.

“Have one of you come to the front and tell me who you’re working with,” Mrs. Ivy tells calls to class from her computer.

All around him, the students pick and sort out partnerships, Salem quickly snatching up the girl across from him. He watches as everyone finds a partner, helpless against the tide of popularity he hadn’t been invited to.

“Uh- Mrs. Ivy- I don’t have a partner.”

Without looking up she asks him who’s absent.

“Daniel is.”

“You’re his partner. Email him tonight.”

Phil looks up blankly. _What were the chances?_ “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“Daniel’s good at this stuff, try to get it out of him.”

“Uh yeah.”

“Trust me on this Phil. Have fun.”

___

As soon as school ends Phil makes it over to Dan’s house. He didn’t have his phone number, He’s never really found the right way to ask. _Well, now he’ll have no choice_. He also marvels at his inability to inform his mum where he’s gone, and he wonders how bad the punishment will be this time.

A woman greets him at the door.

“Uh- are you Mrs. Howell by chance?” Phil asks nervously. “Daniel would be your son.” _Ugh, like she wouldn’t know who her kid was._

She looks pointedly. “Yes, that’s me. What can I help you with? Has my son done anything to you?”

Phil doesn’t know how to respond. “Er-”

Thankfully, he doesn’t have too.

“Oh, Phil, what are you doing here?” Dan appears behind his mother, red nosed and slightly out of breath.

“Um we have some school things we should talk about- assignments that is-” he adds as Dan’s mum goes to glare behind her, “not urgent or anything.”

Mrs. Howell looked forward with a perfect smile. “What’s your name darling, don’t think I caught it.”

“Phil.”

“Phil-?”

“Lester.”

“Ah.” She smiles again, this time clasping her hands together slightly. “Lovely family. Well I’m just leaving for work now but Dan’ll show you the way in, won’t he? He’s a little sick but-”

“Yeah.”

“I made some food, you’re welcome to have some of the leftovers Phil.” She gives an uncomfortable glance to him. “Be home by 8 if you must, please.”

Phil feels himself grow a little warm. “Yes, Mrs. Howell.”

“Thank you. Do your work boys. I’ll see you tomorrow Dan. Goodbye.” She waves to them in the doorway and makes her way down the steps.

Dan closes the door. “Don’t fuck her perfect virgin son, basically.”

“She thinks–?”

“I’m still a virgin? No. Though she likes to pretend otherwise.”

“You're-”

“Out? Yeah. Can’t not be when she finds you snogging some bloke in the back alley. But she’s also seen the girls so we kind of leave it at that.”

“Oh.”

“So what did you come over here for?” Dan takes a soda from the fridge and sits down.

“We have a project in english and I didn’t have your number to text you about it.”

“Ah, we should probably change that.” He hands Phil his phone. “Put your number in.”

As Phil does it, Dan starts to get up. “Actually, let’s go to my room. I’d rather talk there.”

___

Phil still can’t get over all the posters and writing on the wall. This kid was too cool for him.

“So what’s the project?”

He tells him, including the detail about the grade. “I really need this. I’m about this close to failing.”

Dan nods. “We can do it. Doesn’t sound too hard.”

“It’s gonna take so much research though,” Phil says in disbelief.  

“It’ll be fun.” Dan gets up to thumb through his records, totally ignoring the look of defeat Phil had put on. “Want to listen to anything?”

“Do you understand what I’m saying? And I suppose you won’t be doing anything for it, huh?”  
  


The cardboard makes swift swooshes against the air. “May I remind you who is in the year 13 English class?”

Phil grows silent. “Mrs. Ivy said you would like it.”

“Ugh, can’t do well now, can I?”

That causes a huff of laughter from Phil. “We can start it tomorrow or something, I just needed your number. Oh yeah, why weren’t you at school today?”

“Didn’t feel like it.” He says abruptly. “What about t’Stone Roses? Some Cure? It _is_ a Friday night.”

“I’d call you pretentious if I didn’t know you so well.”

“It’s all in what you show others.”

That catches Phil off guard. He wants to know more about this ditch day but wonders how many other people have been that close to him to _even_ see his room.

“So why do you show me?”

Neither have spoken of the night before, and it sit’s uncomfortable in the air between them now. Dan continues sitting in front of his record player with his back to Phil, taking out one to place it on the spinner.

“That’s an answer for another time. But you’ll get it. Do-” Dan runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t leave.”  

___

Over the next couple of weeks Dan starts a habit of showing up to Phil’s without much warning. He’ll come home after school with him, except not really– rather he’ll walk _around_ the streets to make sure no one’s following him and make a dash to the side window, put his black hoodie down when he comes in and tiptoes to Phil’s bedroom.

Phil nearly had a heart attack the first few times it happened, and even once his mum had almost caught Dan before he could get under the bed.

“I should really come through the front door. Why _can’t_ I?” Dan asks today.

“I don’t know,” Phil says awkwardly. “Shh do the project I need to do my homework.”

“Fine.” The chair creaks as Dan goes back to his bed.

It’s a lie. Dan’s not working on the project. He tries to focus on the page below him. Looking down at Phil’s _Intro to Psych_ book, the words jumble underneath his minute will to understand like a broken flower stem, his hair hangs like the petals spilling over hand and ruffling themselves against his forehead. _Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs_ shows up to him, and Dan can only let out a small laugh.

“What is it?” Phil’s sat at his desk, going over geography homework.

“This shit.” He brings the book over to Phil’s desk.

“Hey this isn’t our project.”

“Just shut up and look at it.”

“Oh- Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.”

Dan scoffs. “This is so convenient for our problems wow why isn’t this tattooed onto our backsides when we’re born.”

Phil laughs a little. “Is kind of simplified now that I think about it.”

“This is so bullshit.” He moves the book closer to Phil’s face, “you see this?”

“Yes, I see it.” Phil pushes the book back to him laughing a bit more. “I only take the class.”

“Disgusting. That’s not how things work.”

“You’re telling me.” Phil takes a closer look. “ _Self actualization: Top Level:  morality, creativity, spontaneity, acceptance of facts, problem solving_. What, so I have no morality? Does this give me permission to go rob a bank now?”

“I mean-” Dan keeps a straight face, “it explains your your violent tendencies to underclassmen.” He can’t keep the face anymore, starting to chuckle.

“Oh shut up.” Phil laughs and picks the textbook up, swinging it at Dan’s head. ”Didn’t ask you opinion _Mr. Psychologis_ t–”

___

“Sure makes things easier, huh?” Phil asks, finaling closing his geography book.

“What?”

“Pop psychology.”  


“Oh that shit,” Dan sighs. “I mean yeah, they don’t want to actually deal with our problems.”

Phil grows quiet. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that.”

“It’s just some stupid way for normal people to make themselves feel better because it obviously only takes from point a to b to get better.”

“I think people try.”

“I think people fail.”

“Oh.”

The air seems to stick to them with a reverent intensity, clinging onto any words that are made. Neither want to break or intrude on its reign, the quiet in control.

Dan pokes at the bedspread. Slowly, the calm starts to dissipate. “I should go,” he says at last without looking up, “they’ll get angry.”

Phil doesn’t think his heart could hurt more.

“You should stop doing this, I mean you can tell someone, the police will help.”

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I just can’t.” Dan moves off the bed, pulling his shoes back on.

“I’ll help you.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

Standing near the door, Dan wants to cry. It’s stuck in his throat and something inside him laughs– _this isn’t me. Well then God, what am I?_

“You can let me leave.”

Phil’s face falls. “Just– be safe,” He says in a small voice. “Think of me.”

Dan shakes his head. “What makes you think that’ll make it easier?”

___

The worst thing about depression is the constant tenterhooks of instability. Today Dan can think about going on with things, he can feign to be happy well enough that no one suspects a thing.

It’s late. Outside the street is quiet for once and he thinks there might actually be a chance of a nice sleep. The night hadn't been too bad to him this time, he had tried to not drink so much but it was useless, he revelled in the bliss.

So back at home, without hesitating, he walks to the bathroom.

Dan takes the white bottle of his mother’s sleeping pills from the mirror cupboard and pours out three, two more than the dosage for the woman. They fall into his hand like bright blue birds eggs into a nest, and takes them with a well of sink water.

In the mirror he can see himself. Backed up against the paisley wallpaper he leans, eyes rimmed with the residue of his mascara. The light is yellow, and the leaves of the paper make it look orange, coating everything in a sticky amber. He stares disgusted at himself for what he thinks is minutes. Maybe it’s hours. A disembodied hand turns the light off for him.

Long hallways run through his head: endless and supernatural, spanning farther and farther from his place on the floor, an oscillating door stretching further from his reach. All he has to do it get to it. The halls buckle into one another though, churning the paisley paper into a sick mix of melting petals and its stems twisting around him– deathly and vine like.

He stumbles into bed gladly, wrapping his blankets around him to protect himself, feeling soft as his limbs tickle with sleepiness. He’s warm, and pretends it’s Phil who is the one next to him, not the pills.

Dan cries.

He just wants him with him.

___

It doesn’t start to become real to them until the project starts.

Work isn’t that hard but it takes hours to stay focused, to get a bit done with a touch or a look between.

“Would you date a boy?” Dan asks on Phil’s bed, laying on his stomach with his English book underneath his head. Not being allowed through the front door and the locks on them– Dan knows things haven’t changed.

“I don’t know,” Phil fidgets, and the topic is switched with a page turn and _we need to focus_ , so Dan backs off.

The kisses are enough, he decides. **  
**

They start together, Dan catches Phil in his lips after a little compliment, an _I like your hair_. He had straightened it today, discarded the wax for an iron, burning the tips off, but proud in the frays.

 _I like your hair_ , and Phil stretches a hand out like it’s an exotic animal to touch, and Dan smiles, feels his insides tingle with nerves. It isn’t the same as when the woman did it, he decides, but he can’t really figure out why it’s different.

 _I like when you do that_ , Dan says, ignoring his past, cheeks burning. _I like when he compliments me_ , Dan thinks. When she had done that to him it was always followed by a fuck, now that he thinks about it. This is different.

 _It’s so you,_ Phil twirls between his thumb and index, _it frames your face really well._

Dan trusts his cue, and looks at him, testing the lashes with his– until they touch.

They’re like butterflies dancing.

That’s how the kisses start, like two insects lost in an open road.

And they don’t talk about dating again. The touches stay in their rooms and behind city buildings, not school– never school.

They find it sick that it seems that with every slip of the hand it only slips a knot tighter to their hearts, a kiss birthing pressure only to _what the kids at school think._

“I hate having to pretend I don’t know give a shit about you in school.” Phil says one day, when work wasn’t getting done, yet again.

Dan doesn’t say the obvious. He stays in his bounds. “Yeah, me too.”

“It’s all me huh?”

He breathes out a sigh. “It’s okay, really.”

“I hate this. I hate me.”

Dan laughs. “Me too. Ugh, who are we?”

It's Phil's turn to laugh. “Just a walking disaster.”

___

What Phil doesn’t know is that Dan isn’t like that all the time. On the days he feels up to it they work on the project, but the other days he spends at home, doing God knows what. He doesn’t go out besides to the club much though, and it’s become a bit of a habit to go back to Phil’s house and sleep with him until the sun comes up, curling his arm across Phil’s chest as soon as he can. It’s innocent. Phil will wake to see Dan next to him, silently bring him a warm washcloth to take the makeup off and take him in close next to him for the rest of the night, a hand through his hair until they’re both fast asleep again.

Dan calms at these times. He feels dirty after the hours, but he forgets it under the blankets, forgets everything under them.

It’s a little bit of a drug.

___

“Big day,” Phil tells him in the hall outside English. “We get the project results back.”

“Oh, I know. I think we did fine though, we worked so hard on it.”

“I hope so–” A group of students are walking towards them. “Oh- see you in class.”

___

Dan looks down at the grade. _97%_. He mutters an almost unintelligible _ohmygod_.

He looks up to see Phil mouthing a what did we get?

_There’s an idea._

Dan grimaces slightly to bravado and shrugs his shoulders. _Later_.

Phil’s eyes grow. _What did we get?_

He laughs. _Later_.

It looks like Phil is about to murder someone. _I hate you._

The rest of class continues in discussing grades, the general trends of the class and what not. Dan makes sure to slip out fast, thankful that his desk is so close to the front door.

_And here comes Phil._

“Oh my god- Just tell me already,” he whispers.

Dan can barely contain his smile. He can see it start to spread to Phil too, and it makes him that much happier. Dan fancies they’re shining like the sun.

“What-did-we-get- _you-absolute-tease_?” He pushes Dan playfully.

“A 97%”

“Oh my God.” Phil’s in near disbelief. “Oh my _God_ ,” he repeats.

“I know.” The smiles they’re giving each other are contagious. Before Dan knows it, he’s giggling slightly, and bringing Phil into a tight hug.

They’re so caught up in the moment Phil forgets that they’re actually in a hall. Surrounded by kids. At school.

Dan’s arms are so tight around him and Phil’s smile just as strung, he doesn’t want it to end, he sees the finish of it only a reason to further it.

So he kisses him.

It’s short. Dan’s hands are still zipper tight on Phil’s back but the quickness of kiss makes Dan’s hands falter, waving to his hair before he pulls away. “Phil?”

The second his lips are off his Phil pales. “Oh my god. I-I” He looks around wildly.

The halls are staring like the two were at the stake. Their effigy inspires some to look down or be embarrassed, others shocked and a few sickly laughing.

Dan just shakes his head. “Are you okay?” He whispers, “Do you want to leave?”

Phil can’t think straight. “Uh-” He decides to look at Dan, it’s easier to focus on him rather than the classmates around them. Someone starts laughing.

Dan ignores it too. He’s afraid to touch him, but keeps the eye contact in some attempt to calm him down. The seconds feel like hours.

Phil blinks a few times. It just _happened_. He doesn’t know how. It just did.

It’s a Freudian slip. A Freudian kiss. His _slip of the lips_.

___

“Phil, wait up!” Dan chases after him, dodging students left and right and turning corners that make his shoes squeak to catch up to the flying assailant.

They’re out at the field before Dan realises that he’s gonna make a run for it. “You idiot, there’s people who saw you– they’ll be coming!” He’s almost out of breath.

Phil ignores the protests.

“Oh– you’re going to make me follow you out of this piece of shit, aren’t you?”

Flinging his bag over the fence Phil army crawls through the ditch under the fence, snagging his sweater in the process.

“I’ve got to get out!” Phil screams.

“You need to calm down!” Dan yells back. “I’m going to get your sweater and you’re going to listen to me _right now!_ ”

“I’ve got to go _right now!_ ”

“Just shut up!!”

Phil quiets while squirming under the pinch of the metal.

“Here, you’re free. _Wait_.”

On the concrete, Phil rolls over and catches his breath, crying out in his hands.

“Where are you planning on going?” Dan asks as he crawls through

“Anywhere, I just need to get out I need to just fucking go-”

“Police will catch you in a fucking second mate if you plan on being outside. It’s 10 am and with a school uniform on you’re-”

“Then what am i supposed to do!?”

“Listen! God– okay we’re going to Crystal’s flat. We can hide out there until you calm down. But we need to go _right now_. They’ve probably already called security.”

Shaking his head, Phil gets up, starting to breath a little better now with his hand a support for his head. “Oh just go already then.”

He helps Phil up. “Let’s go.”

___

Crystal opens the door just a peek. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jamesy,” Dan says a little uncomfortably, it wasn’t his real name after all. “I need to stay here for a little bit, it’s urgent.”

“Oh God, come’n.” She shuts the door behind them and rewraps her silk robe. “What ‘appened?”

Shaking from either lack of oxygen or sense, Phil issues a no from his head.

Dan wants to say _my friend here did something really fucking_ _stupid–_ but decides against it. It wouldn't really make anyone feel better. “I’ll tell you later, we just need to talk it over, I think. Is there somewhere we can maybe go in private?”

Phil looks up, surprised.

“Afraid it’s just the one room ‘ere.”

“Oh.”

“Ey, ya know I can go up if you like? To Mirandy’s? She won’t mind a bit ya know.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Of course Jamesy. Anything for ya. Let me just get my stuff. Oh right- no cops comin’ round right?”

“I mean we just ditched school so nothing federal.”

“I’m just gonna pretend ya broke in and my lover and I were unaware of the defiling of my place going on downstairs.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say. How the woman can be so human despite her surroundings, he hasn’t figured it out yet. He just knows it makes him warm inside.

“Thank you.”

___

It’s Dan that begins.“You’re not okay, huh?”

Phil only shakes his head.

“I’m sorry that happened I- god I totally understand if you need to break things off or something or-”

“No.” The bed creaks as Phil gets up abruptly. “No, I’m not losing you.”

Dan’s heart stops. Quietly, he stumbles out to repeat himself.

“I don't care what it takes but I can’t leave you.”

“Wha-Why?”

Everything Dan’s thinks about love is on the line.

“Because I care about and I want to be around you– _Jesus Christ_ the times I had to keep my hands off you at school and pretend I barely knew you. Every second hurt, Dan.”

“I know, I just thought it was because-”

Phils doesn't want to be reminded. “We both bloody know why, that's all I ever do, fuck myself over.”

“Welcome to the club.”

That makes Phil chuckle. “The sad thing is that you're so right.”

The bedroom is poorly lit, the only light a small desk lamp in corner.

“I'm going to home later tonight. I don’t want you to have to sneak in anymore– or shit like that, I don’t know. Let them ask questions. I don’t care right now, but I want my mum to meet you, for once.”

“That’s fine.” Dan places his hand on Phil’s. “I only took you here so you could think things through, I do it all the time.”

“It’s just that I’m so dumb,” Phil exclaims, “I can’t believe I did that what _the fuck._ ”

“We all fuck up,” Dan says. “That’s just life.”

“It’s like- I don’t know why I can’t do it.”

“We’re here for each other, right?”

“Yeah.” Phil let out a sigh, wiping a tear off his cheek. “Yeah.” He held onto Dan’s hand, “Thanks.”

___

“Mum?” Inside his house, Phil’s mum can be heard in the kitchen on the phone.

The talking stops. “Phil, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Where have you been-” A darked haired woman runs out of the kitchen and into the living room, a phone to her chest. “I got a call about you at school and-”

“I’m sorry. I’m safe.”

“Who’s with you? I’m on the phone with the police right now. I thought you were gone.” The woman runs her hand through her greying hair and then to her chest, bring the phone back up to her hair. “He’s here. Uh huh. Yes, he’s right here. I’m so sorry about this officer.”

Dan squirms his hands in his pockets, trying to breathe evenly. He can see Phil sway a bit. “Are you okay?” he whispers.

“No.”

Instinctively his hands goes out, but quickly averts it, placing it back into the warmth of his hoodie. “Sorry.”

The phone beeped off. “Where have you been? I thought you were gone. You could have called.”

“I’m sorry. I really am- I-”

“No one can give me a straight answer at school. And who is this?” She points at Dan. “Is this really a time to bring over a friend?”

“This is Dan, he helped me out I’m sorry-”

“God, I need to call your father.” She shakes her head. “I think he should leave right now, Phillip.”

Dan stands next to Phil, head glued to the carpet.

“No, mum-”

“What, Phillip? What? You ditch school and don’t call, show up hours later with some _kid_ -”

“This is Dan-” Phil chokes out, “This is Dan- t-this is my boyfriend.”

Dan looks up sharply, taking in a quick breath. He’d never heard the term pass his lips. _Boyfriend_. He likes it.

“Boyfriend?” Phil’s mum blanks.

A stream of tears start down Phil’s sticky cheek. “Yes.” He looks at his mother. “I kissed him at school and ran away and he helped me hide and _I’m sorry_. Are you going to punish me now?”

“I-I didn’t know Phil.”

Dan looks up to see the woman bring the phone down, paled yet nodding.

“Um, that’s fine. Phil, I love you. You know that.”

Nobody speaks.

“So, do you want to introduce Dan to me?”

“Y-Yeah. That’s why I came back, actually.” He turns to Dan. “This is Dan. Were together. I-I really like him.”

___

“It’s near 6, Dan. If you want you can spend the night. I don’t think either of you should have to go to school tomorrow, it’s been hectic from the sound of it all.” She picks up his plate. “Do you want me to call your mum for you? It’s really no trouble. My husband and I have to run over to the Newton’s house for their housewarming party for a bit but we’ll be back in an hour or two. I didn’t think to cancel during all of that.”

They’re sat at the dinner table. “Oh, well I already sent her a message about it all, but thank you. She’s already at work.”

“Do you have a dad you could call?” Mr. Lester asks.

“No.”

He nods and leaves it at that. “As long as you confirm with her you should probably stay. It’s late.”

“Thank you, uh I’ll text her again.”

Phil gets up. “We should go now.”

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Lester, um-.”

“It’s nothing, darling.”

He smiles. “Thank you.”

___

“You’re family is so nice.” Dan sits up on Phil’s bed, holding onto one of his pillows. “You’re so lucky.”

Phil lays down next to him. “Yeah. I’m- uh, I’m sorry about all of that.”

“I don’t care, really.”

“Don’t know how you can do that.”

“I have you.” Dan shrugs his shoulders. “That’s pretty good.”

Taking the pillow out of his hands, Phil closes the distance with a quick kiss. “You think I can get away with kissing you while my are parents gone?”

Dan tries to ignore the nerves in his stomach. “You’re cheeky.”

Both of their eyes are still a little red from crying earlier, Phil’s more so than Dan’s. Dinner had been awkward, but not unbearable, and Phil seems to have calmed since then. Now it was Dan’s reaction that caught his attention.

“I think you were - ah - really brave today,” Dan continues, stumbling out the words. “I wish I could be like you.”

Phil drops the hand that’s nearing his cheek, sensing the unease.“I don’t have to touch you if you don’t want. I don’t know always, you know.”

“Just don’t try and fuck me,” he said bluntly. “You’re better than me now- always have been a bit but tonight you took care of that so I wouldn’t put it past you to leave me- find a real guy or whatever.”

“Dan.” With a sad disbelief in his voice, Phil retracts his hand back to his lap. “Dan, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Dan feels like he’s breathing out a deja-vu. “You can let me leave.”

“Don’t you want to stay?”

“I don’t think me staying here is going to help me anymore than going out and getting pissed.”

“You don’t think that.”

“How the fuck are you suppose to know what I think? You’re not the one taking cock for some coke.”

Phil gets up. “Because I know you!” He starts to yell, incredulous. “You have _literally_ held on to me for hours at night because you couldn't sleep and woken me up from nightmares about these people, Dan, _nightmares_.”

“I do what I do to survive,” Dan says tersely.

“Surviving is not enough. You deserve more than that. I-I want to give you as much as I can to make that real.”

“No you don’t! You just wanted me to get you off in an empty classroom one day, I’m nothing to you!” Dan yells, arm raised in defeat.

“I love you!” Phil pulls at his hair. “ _God_ , don’t you get it? I want to be with you. I don’t give a shit about what you hate about yourself I just want us to be together. I'll do anything for us to stay together as long as you want me.”

There’s a stunned silence. Dan’s breathing heavier now, struggling for breath

“I love you, I care about you, I owe so much to you and I would do anything in the world to pay you back,” Phil continues.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did so much more than you could even imagine. Do you know how I hated myself? I didn’t think I could ever meet someone I could love, like truly love. I didn’t think people like you existed in a world for people like me. But then you came along with your problems and pretty talk and I knew I was fucked. I-I know we’re pretty big fucking messes but we’re _here_ for each other. We may have started pretty shit but-”

“I’m sorry.” Dan’s interrupts, starting to cry. “I’m sorry I treated you so bad. You didn’t deserve that I’m such a fuck up-” This whole meeting Phil’s parents, it was because he loves Dan. _How could I be so stupid?_  


“I’m fine. I forgive you.” Their voices are quiet.

“You shouldn’t”

_“But I do.”_

Dan takes his hand. “Um– I’m here.” It's awkwardly placed, but Dan’s heart is still thrumming, the attempt new. “I-I need you too.”

“You know I can’t offer you a rescue.”

It hits like a stone thrown at a bird. Dan feels like his stomach has gone out from under him. That’s the reality. He hadn’t thought Phil would be so coarse. He pulls away his hand.

“N-No one’s asking you to.”

Phil gently takes it back. “But that’s only because I refuse to become a drug to you. I want you to stay with me because you want to, not because you have to.”

Dan can't look up, tears are clouding his view to the carpet– and it’s like the stains from the past three decades are trying to draw him into its fibers and suffocate him. Phil’s hand seems to be pushing away all the paper vines he’d wrapped around his arms, and with it their oxygen.

He stays silent until Phil continues.

“I see you and I all I can see is myself looking back.” He shakes his head. “It’s like you hold up a mirror. Can’t you see that that’s just us? When you come back to me at night after I know you’ve been through hell, all I want to do is kiss the fucking pain away. Take it off your damn lips for myself. I can’t pretend I know what goes on because you haven’t told me, and it’s not my business, but I don’t have as much as you and I hate it. I hate our stupid problems and I hate that fixing things takes pain and I hate that society thinks you’re useless because you’re not, you’re just not.”  

Dan draws his arms tighter, to protect himself, he knows not from. He wants to scream, it’s taking everything to not fall apart and sob in his arms. If he tries to answer he knows it’ll just tear him apart even more. The drugs, the shit he does to forget- it makes him stronger. Talking like this is cracking it.

“It’s alright.” Dan moves his head around, doing anything to distract himself. He laughs a little through his tears. “It’s alright. _God_ , what are we?” Phil laughs a little too.

“Whatever you want.”

Dan nods, sniffling, and sits down on his bed, his voice shaking. “Can you just, just– lie down with me? Like usual?”

“Of course.” Phil comes back over to where Dan is sitting and pulls him into a hug. “Of course.”  


___

Dan can’t stop looking at the shape of his mouth - that’s the thing - it’s not about how he wants them to take him, it’s how they’ve changed.

A small light from the window is coming in on the two, and Dan can see Phil’s eyes. Their not their usual crystal self, they’re softer, less edged– he want’s to sink into them.

“How do you want to do this?”

Dan closes his eyes. “Just kiss me.”

It’s quiet. Phil’s hands are just as feather light, warm on his cheek as their lips finally meet. “I love you.”

Dan goes to speak. He remembers how Phil had yelled it before.

“Shh, no.” He lets his finger brush the bottom of Dan’s lip. “You don’t have to say anything.”

He sighs into himself. Still his eyes are closed, and he lets himself succumb to the small trails left by Phil’s fingers. It starts at his lips, and falls to his chin, thumbing its way around the small of it. “You’re beautiful.”

He can only breathe out Phil’s name. He leans forward, wanting his lips again. An index finger is placed there instead.

“I’ve wanted to know who you were since the first day I saw you.”

The fingers trace his jaw now, and breathe hangs there. Slowly, Dan can feel a warm wetness follow this trail, and Phil’s lips replacing it, racing along his stubble. “And now that I know you I can properly say I love you.”

It makes his neck twitch, and he moans it out. “ _I-I love you too_.”

Dan doesn’t mean to say it. It’s a slip. Freudian. Dropped from the unconscious– a part of him.

But if this is what love is, if it’s feeling safe and soft– than he is in love. Daniel Howell is in love. Daniel Howell is in love for the first time and he is absolutely taken.

He opens his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Phil can only run his hand along his cheek. “Don’t be.”

The light is turning a pink, illuminating the silver chiffon curtains, and Phil’s skin is a canvas; rose and jewel-like. Dan can only imagine how he looks in the shadows compared.

Hot tears slide down onto Phil’s fingers. “I’m a mess.” He puts his hand up on Phil’s. “I fuck people for drugs and I’m probably fucking addicted because all I want to do is be happy for a few hours. I want to die every single bloody day and I only go out because I hate being so alone.”

“I love you even more for it.”

Dan’s back shakes with a sob. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I love you.” Phil repeats.

“I love you too.” And he really means it.

___

The setting sun shifts, and the dark amarynth of the sky flows into Dan’s eyes. Phil is in a black shadow. It calms him. Navy is deceiving.

“I can’t be with you now, like sex and that shit,” Dan says honestly. If Phil’s going to leave him he may as well be now. “That’s weird to me, you’re too pure. You’re not pain.” There’s a shaky laugh. “I’m not the person you met 2 months ago. What the hell happened to me?”

Phil ignores the last comment. “I don’t mind. You just– tell me what to do.”

“Maybe one day I can love you more.” Dan says sadly.

“Sex doesn't equal love, Dan. You can have love without sex.”

Dan’s shoulders drop. He brings his hand up to try to stifle a sob, but it fails. Dan can't help but think of the woman he had been with years back, how he had given so much to her, how many times they'd slept together and how much he used to whisper to her how much he'd loved her. But she'd used him so much. He doesn't think it was love now, looking into Phil’s eyes.

“I need to think about _you_ right now.”

“Why?” It’s the curiosity in Phil.

“You love me. You make me not want to die so much.” He closes his eyes again. The woman had only made him hate himself to begin with. “Just kiss me.”

Weepiness is inherent to love, inherent to feeling, and Dan is starting to feel. He is starting to love. Wet is growing through his lashes and he falls into the embrace of blankets.

“Love me in every way I can’t.” It’s whispered to the air above him.

“Where?” Phil asks tentatively.

Dan smiles.

“Everywhere.”

___

 **a/n**  thank you for reading :’) if you liked any of it please like (or even better) reblog (it helps out a ton i promise) on my [tumblr!](http://pinklester.tumblr.com/ask) as always shoot me a message on there if you have any thoughts, even if it’s anonymous i love love love hearing your thoughts! (or one on ao3 here, all good) have a fantastic day! 


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